The timeline Guilermo had given me was a double-edged sword: a countdown to freedom and a ticking bomb. Two weeks. Fourteen days. Three hundred and thirty-six hours.
That was the distance between me and the Solstice. Between me and the rescue. Between being a prisoner and being... whatever came next.
I spent those weeks in a state of suspended animation, going through the motions of a life I had already mentally abandoned. I woke up in the apartment that felt more like a cell every day. I walked to the Archives, the smell of old paper and dust becoming my only comfort. I cataloged spells, updating the tedious ledgers that Sibal obsessed over.
I ignored Sibal. I ignored his knowing, predatory smiles that seemed to say, I know you're up to something, and I'm going to enjoy breaking it. I
